


Next to her heart

by RhinoHill



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Dog Tags, F/M, Love Confessions, Passion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhinoHill/pseuds/RhinoHill
Summary: "I didn't leave... because I'd have rather died myself than lose Carter."Some love is locked away in a room so deep that you'll never find it again. But when you watch the person you love about to die, somehow, the room finds you.--oOo--





	1. Next to her heart

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few months after Sam and Jack's confessions in "Divide and Conquer", S04E05, some good old-fashioned heart-wrenchage and passion, still as magical to us 25 years on as when Sam and Jack first set eyes on each other.
> 
> I dedicate this to the wonderful shippers who faught for the duo panel and photo op at WCC2019. Thank you for giving shippers everywhere fresh inspiration.
> 
> You are unicorns.
> 
> \--oOo--

The second they stepped back through the gate, his hand closed around her arm.

“My office,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.” The air around her felt strangely soft as she followed the colonel to his office. She remembered her first trip through the stargate; the feeling of being liquidised and spat out whole but somehow, irrevocably altered. Four years later, she felt that way again. But this time the change in her was anything but benign. She walked in the wake of his furious footfalls, trying to piece her world back together when all she wanted was to fall apart in his arms. _Focus, Sam_ , she forced herself to think. _He’s alive. Look. He’s alive_. The thudding of her heart and the sound of his steps echoed the words that were holding her together. _Look. He’s alive. Look. He’s alive._

He slammed his office door shut and rounded on her, fists clenched, leaning forward.

“What the FUCK, Carter?! What. The. FUCK? What were you thinking? WERE you thinking?” He spun in a circle, propelled by the heat of his rage. “I gave you a direct order. A DIRECT. FUCKING. ORDER. Are those optional now?!”

Sam tried to keep her face smooth, but his venom made her flinch. The fragile wall she had built around her composure wobbled like blue jello.

It had been the perfect ambush. They were investigating an abandoned naquidah mine near a small rural settlement on an outer planet when Sekhmet, a minor system lord, had sprung his trap. He intended to capture them and present them to Ba’al as a means of gaining recognition. From inside the mine, his guards had marched out all the women and children of the village and started torturing them to death, one by one, while SG-1 watched helplessly from behind a scrim of bushes. As the third mother watched her toddler being torn in half, Jack had growled for them to return to the stargate and stepped into the open.

“Here I am. Alone, I’m afraid. I’m the old one, you see. Been put on shitty recon duty because the others have more important things to do.”

Such a typically ballsey Jack response. And all they had to do was get back to the gate and return with reinforcements to rescue him. Simple. Then the Gou’auld had lost his sense of humour. She remembered the scene in nauseating slow motion. He had walked around Jack like a dog sniffing its prey. Twisting his hand into the short hair at the base of his skull, he had pushed him to his knees. Jack had landed on his injured knee with a grunt that held very little pretense.

“Old indeed,” Sekhmet had scoffed, clearly annoyed by the fact that he had captured a single person.

“But still better looking than the girls you can pull, with your looks.” Jack. Always full of bluster. “So, what say you get your gorillas to stop torturing little kids and pick on someone your own size instead?”

Halfway around the perimeter, Sam’s blood had curdled when the Gou’auld had grabbed a staff weapon and pointed it at his face.

“One is better than none,” the dark double voice had spoken. “Dead is less irritating than alive.”

When the cold spark of the activating weapon hit Jack’s skin, her world had spun into chaos.

“NO!” Before she knew what she had done, Sam was in the open, running towards him. “He’s not alone. I came with him. Take me. I’m younger. And I’m a woman. I’m useful alive.” She was babbling, and she knew it. But every word she spoke bought him another second. “Leave him. Take me.”

The reaction from Daniel, Teal’c and the villagers looked co-ordinated, but she had no idea that it would happen. She had no thoughts beyond watching him die. No thoughts at all.

“Never,” her CO’s spat word shocked her back into the room, “have I doubted you as my 2IC. And now? What exactly do you want me to write in my mission report?” He spun away again, running exasperated hands through his hair. “I’m a woman, I’m useful alive?” His voice thickened around the implication. “For god’s sake, major! Has your brain deserted you? Have you lost your mind?”

He paced back to her. A vein in his temple throbbed. “Are you even the same person?” A shadow of fear flickered across his rock-hard features and his hand reached up to the chain on her dog tag. Calloused fingers scraped her skin as he pulled it out from where her dog tag nestled, beneath her bra, next to her heart.

Sam’s last hold on composure fell away when his hand closed around the small, triangular rod fitted snugly to the back of the steel tag that bore her name. She closed her eyes in defeat. When she opened them, they brimmed with tears. Helpless, she saw him bend his face closer to her, turning the dainty gold rod until his name caught the light. His name, carved into the precious metal that she had tied onto the mark of her own identity, and shaped so that it would always lie against her skin, right next to her heart. The closest she could be to him.

A slow, fat tear rolled out of her left eye, glinting in the fluorescent light like the letters of his name, carved in gold by her own hands. Warm from her skin.

“You have to write that I’m not fit to work with you, Sir,” she whispered. Her mouth pulled into a grimace as she fought to control her heaving breath. Another tear joined the first, reflecting his astonished eyes. “I’m not.” She shook her head against the terrifying truth. “I couldn’t watch you die. So I made the wrong decision. And the next time, I’ll make the same decision again.” Her eyes pleaded with him. Not for forgiveness. Just for some hint of understanding. _He was alive._ “I can’t watch you die, sir.”

Sadness, love, compassion; a torrent of emotions hit her face as he looked into her eyes.

 _I didn’t leave… because I’d rather have died myself than lose Carter._ Two months before, he had spoken those words. Then he had locked them away in a room so far from the surface of his mind that he could survive them. But he had never seen her about to die. He would never be able to walk away from that, either.

For three breaths, all he could do was hold on to her eyes. His hand wrapped around their names, carved into two conjoined metal pieces. Gently, forcing his hand to stay steady, he dropped it back under her black t-shirt. His palm came to rest over the small, hard mound that it formed between the soft swell of her breasts.

“Carter.” His voice was hoarse with the desire to cradle all of her to him, forever. “Carter,” he tried again. “Go home. After the debriefing, go get your medical check, and go home. We’ll talk about this tonight. Just… Just don’t say anything to anyone this afternoon, okay? That’s an order, major. For the love of god, if you never follow another order, just follow this one. Please. Please.”

“To-” she swallowed, shifting against the pressure of his hand on her chest. It felt like the only thing holding her upright. “Tonight?”

“Please,” he whispered.

 

 

 

 


	2. The honesty of bare feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything else, he had prepared himself for. The scent of her. The soft curl of her hair at the nape of her neck. The blue of her eyes, bruised by tears he’d made her cry.
> 
> The honesty of bare feet stole everything away from him, except the need to hold her.
> 
> \--oOo--

The sun had just dropped behind the hills when Jack eased his truck into her driveway. He still had no plan to talk about, no way to present her insubordination as anything but just that in the mission report. An afternoon abusing a punching bag in the command gym had brought no fresh ideas. A run was impossible after the snakehead had forced his injured knee onto a sharp stone. The bloody minor system lord had hurt him far more than he knew. Both him and the woman he didn’t know how to face. He could kick the bastard’s face in for what he had done to her. He could smash his own head into a wall for the way he’d treated her in his office, without even questioning her motives.

_I couldn’t watch you die, sir_. Her words bored a hole in the centre of his chest, right under the dog tag bearing his name. Right over his heart.

He puffed out his cheeks and slammed the door of his truck behind him.

She opened her front door almost as soon as he knocked. As if she had been waiting behind it. There she stood, BDUs and black T replaced by dark jeans and a plain white camisole, a pale cardigan that lifted the blue of her eyes lightly touching her collarbones, echoing the line of the chain that held her own dog tag. And a slim gold rod that bore his name.

Her feet were bare.

Everything else, he had prepared himself for. The scent of her. The soft curl of her hair at the nape of her neck. The blue of her eyes, bruised by tears he’d made her cry.

The honesty of bare feet stole everything away from him, except the need to hold her.

Eyes locked on his, not speaking, she stepped back and opened the door wide enough for him to come in.

He stepped across the threshold, feeling large and gauche in her understated, feminine hallway. He toed off the clumsiness of his shoes.

“Sir, you can keep them on.”

He looked back at her feet. He’d never seen them bare. Feet that ran miles and miles in combat boots, that broke bones when they connected in a kick. Unprotected. He had to lean against the wall to take the weight off his throbbing knee, but it didn’t matter. One by one, he pulled off his socks and folded them onto his shoes. Then his unprotected feet walked up to hers, and he crushed her against his chest.

“Oh.” Jack couldn’t tell if it was a word or a sigh, but after a heartbeat, her feet stepped forward between his, shifting her body softly into him. Knee to knee, thigh pressed against thigh, the dip inside her hipbones caressing the zipper of his jeans. Chest to chest. Her arms folded around his back, one low, one finding the slope of his shoulder blades. Her head dropped into the hollow of his throat. And his mind found rest.

His palms could feel the peaks of vertebrae through her clothes. Without planning to, his fingertips traced their outline, up and down the length of her back. At the top, he found the arch of her neck, the feathers of her hair, and tangled his fingers through it. At the other extreme, he slipped under the hem of her cardigan. A shock ran through him when he touched bare skin. A thrill he knew she could feel rising behind the zipper of his jeans. Gently, he edged his hand up under her camisole until he held the curve of her back in his hand.

He felt the heat of her breath against his skin; a contrast to the goosebumps on her back that spoke their secrets into his hand. Her head turned, and her lips pressed into his neck.

“Oh god, Sam,” He was hoarse with his need for her. Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles against his skin. And, lifting her head, she broke another rule. Her mouth opened and she kissed him.


	3. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The colonel was furious with the major. And he had every right to be. 
> 
> But tonight, his hand was in my hair. And he was holding me. 
> 
> —oOo—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a woman, I struggled to write from a man’s point of view initially. Jack’s gruff gentleness gave me the courage to be a man’s voice - and everything else in Next to her Heart is Jack. 
> 
> Sam knocked on my pillow last night and told me she needed to speak. 
> 
> For those of you who don’t like thought monologues, you can skip this chapter without losing any action. 
> 
> For everyone else, I hope I do Sam justice xo
> 
> —oOo—

His hand was in my hair. 

Samantha Carter. Major. PhD. Ambitious bitch. Yes, I know the labels. I’ve earned them without trying. Especially the last one. Every Air Force man I met thought that of me eventually. 

I’ve never felt ambitious. I work because I can make a difference. I follow rules because I respect the institution that makes them. That means I don’t date colleagues. I share beers and laughs with them, but not my bed. Ambitious bitch. It’s not something I can fight. But it’s fucking lonely. 

Seven hours earlier, I’d seen death arc from the staff weapon onto his neck. And everything had changed. 

I’d directly disobeyed his order. I’d put Teal’c, Daniel and myself in mortal danger because I couldn’t watch him die. By every rule in every Air Force book, I’d fucked up royally. 

And yet, his hand was in my hair, the other tracing the rise and fall of my spine. He was alive. And he was holding me. 

The colonel was furious with the major. And he had every right to be. But tonight, he’d left the colonel at the door, pulled him off his feet and folded him neatly on top of his shoes. 

Tonight, his hand was in my hair. 

I kissed him with the regret of a thousand wasted mornings, and the promise of a single, stolen night.


	4. With you by my side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack leaned up on an elbow. “Carter,” it took effort to steady his voice. “No offense, but don’t you dare talk about my knee while you look like that.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene needed to get out of my head and on to the page, so I wrote it on the plane. I hope it's a less awkward read for you than for the engineer seated next to me who drunkenly hit on me before he started reading over my shoulder and realised he was in WAAY over his head! :D
> 
> \--oOo--

She kissed him like a tidal wave. Her body pressed against him, unmoving, but her tongue teased out his soul; moving, stroking, learning the curves of his mouth. He remembered the taste of her lips from that endless day he and Teal’c had lived over and over. They were as warm and soft as his memory. Her lip gloss still held the trace of honey. But tonight her kiss held power that shook him. Power, aching heat, and certainty.

 _Ambitious Bitch_ , the other guys called her. Never more than once within his earshot if they valued their jobs, but he knew the label lived on in the locker room. She came across so self-assured until you got to know her, until you learnt the language of her face - the little sideways pull of a cheek when she was nervous about how her words would be received; the tiny straightening of her shoulders for courage before she said _actually, sir_. When lesser people would pace and bounce, she didn’t permit herself more than than licking her lips. The only time she was truly confident was when she lost herself in explaining a complex bit of science, or in the heat of battle. And in this kiss. Her had never felt her this sure.

His hand moved higher on her skin, gathering every part of her to him. Silky strands of her hair slipped through his fingers as he lost himself completely.

She moaned in his mouth and ground her hips against his. Heat rushed through him, pushing his knees harder against hers. Pain lanced through his right thigh from his knee.

“Aah,” the gasp escaped before he could clamp it down.

Instantly, her eyes were back on his. Alert. Concerned. “Your knee?”

“Yeah. Bastard.” Another grimace as he shifted weight.

With a single move, she was next to him, cradling his right arm around her shoulder, her left hip pressed against his, supporting his weight every time he stepped on his right foot. At the door to the lounge, he paused, but her soft smile urged him on towards her bedroom.

Next to her bed, she released him, and pulled a pillow towards the foot of the bed. Gently, she guided his head onto the pillow that smelt of the vanilla of her hair and his knees onto the pillow lower down. For a moment, she looked down at him, her eyes running a current over his skin. Then, with a smile that melted bone, she shrugged off her cardigan, lifted her camisole over her head and unbuttoned her jeans. Stepping forward out of them, legs skimming the edge of the bed, she unclipped her bra and let it drop to the floor, then slipped off her panties.

“Christ, Sam,” He couldn’t stop his breath coming in sharp gusts. A light blush crept from her neck to her face, and her smile turned uncertain. She looked down as she always did when he caught her looking at him. He rolled into sitting to pull her closer, but a firm hand pushed him back down.

The astrophysicist with the body of a soldier padded to the foot of the bed and leaned forward to unbutton his jeans. With gritted teeth, he held himself still while her fingers slid down his hips, dragging his clothes with them. A frown chased across her face when she saw angry red and purple stretching over his swollen knee.

She ran two fingers carefully along the edges of the swelling. “We need to ice that,” she murmured.

Jack leaned up on an elbow. “Carter,” it took effort to steady his voice. “No offense, but don’t you dare talk about my knee while you look like that.”

Her low chuckle of surprise burst the pit of his stomach into flame. Her left hand reached out, twining her fingers into his right hand. This time, when she licked her lips, it wasn’t uncertain. It was filled with desire. Her chin lifted in a slow reverse nod before she straddled him.

Chest to chest, skin to skin, he ran his fingers through her hair and along the curve of her chin. Her head bent and her tongue traced the edges of his lips, drawing him further into her kiss with every deliberate pass. With a groan, he pulled her onto him. His hands chased bliss up the curves of her spine as her body moulded around him.

“Jack,” He’d never heard her speak his name before. He never wanted him to call him anything else again. He pulled their intertwined fingers above his head, drawing her mouth to his for a kiss. Slowly, surely, her body rocked against him, sending crescendos of heat through him with every shift. When he froze against her lips, trying to find control, she leaned up, just enough to hold his eyes with hers. Her free hand reached to her hips, found his, and pulled it up above his head, next to the other. Without breaking eye contact, holding his body captive beneath hers, his hands bound in her fingers, she moved against him, more and more insistently, until a shuddering cry propelled them both into a darkness of exploding stars.

Slow minutes past as he floated back into his skin. He was covered in a skein of sweat, drenched in liquid heat. His right hand stroked her hair, feeling her heartbeat fluttering against his chest. Wet warmth spread against him.

Tears.

“Hey?”

Her body shook with quiet sobs.

He pressed his lips to her soft hair and curled his arms more tightly around her. “Was it that bad?”

Her fist connected with his bare shoulder, and he couldn’t contain a happy chuckle. His fingers tangled deeper into her hair.

“Wanna talk about it?”

A deep breath heaved her whole body against his. “What-” she shifted her face deeper into the hollow of his throat, “-what happens now?”

Jack’s eyes closed. He drifted his hands down the length of her body, thrilling at the heat of her skin. “Now, I never let you go,” he whispered into her hair.

With a soft sigh, she pushed herself onto an elbow. Blue eyes, bruised with tears, looked into his. Her teeth worried at her lower lip. “You know what I mean.”

He couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “But I know I’d rather face whatever happens with you by my side.”

As evening deepened into night, as her tears dried against his skin, his fingers traced the ridges of her spine, the line of her ribs, the angle of her hips against him. Home.

The second time his stomach growled, they could no longer pretend it hadn’t happened. Rolling onto her side, she lingered her lips against his. “If I feed you, will you let me ice your knee?”

Jack raised his arms in defeat. “You win.”

By the time he had eased himself up against the headboard, she had hopped lightly off the bed and was heading to the bathroom, bending to scoop up his shirt and her panties on the way. His head dropped back against the headboard.

“Fuck me,” he whispered to the closed bathroom door.


	5. Spaghetti Carbonara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She twisted in his arms, gliding the ice pack down his spine. “Well, something’s getting iced.” Her teeth grazed his collarbone. “You can pick another body part, but I’d recommend your knee.”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tale of frying pans and fires. 
> 
> Especially for Fanficlover1 xo

By the time he wandered into the kitchen in jeans and bare feet, a large glass pot of water was heating on the stove. She turned to him, the tentative smile that played above the dip of his shirt broadening when she caught the love in his eyes.

“Spaghetti Carbonara?” she lifted a pack of bacon off the counter in a question.

“You mean bacon and egg pasta?”

“I guess I mean bacon and egg pasta,” she laughed, bending into the freezer for an ice pack, revealing a crescent of black satin under the hem of his shirt.

“Shit, Carter,” he closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You can’t ice my knee looking like that.”

She twisted in his arms, gliding the ice pack down his spine. “Well, _something’s_ getting iced.” Her teeth grazed his collarbone. “You can pick another body part, but I’d recommend your knee.”

“Crap,” he raised his hands again. Surrendering to her was all he ever wanted to do. “Okay, you win.”

“Are you going to be too cold with your jeans off?” Her forehead creased as she looked at him. “The ice really should be closer to your skin.” 

She shifted like water between passion, fun and care. He wanted to wrap her moods around him like a rainbow.

“Yeah, right, I know your methods. You just want to get me naked again.”

It worked. The frown dissolved into a blush.  With a chuckle, he unbuttoned his jeans and folded them on the chair she pulled out for his feet. He eased himself down and raised his right leg. Expert hands swaddled his knee in towel-wrapped ice, securing it with hospital corner tucks above and below. Jack allowed his thoughts to drift like the lazy bubbles in the heating water. Eight hours ago, death had crackled against his skin and she’d thrown herself in disaster’s path to save him. Now her hands, raising trails of goosebumps in their icy wake, eased up his torso, settling cool comfort against the bruise that bloomed under the hair at the base of his skull. Tipping his head back with the pressure of her palms, she burned love into his eyes for a heartbeat before turning to the stove.

Soon, the smell of frying bacon redoubled the noises from his stomach. With a smile, she handed him a beer. “Just a few more minutes.”

“I could watch you cooking for hours.” _I love you_. He desperately hoped she could hear his meaning.

One hand sat cockily on a mock-indignant hip, the other brandished a packet of pasta. “Once your knee is healed, you’ll be cooking too.” Blue eyes caught the hope in his before dropping down with a flash of pain at the thought of a future that may never be.

“Unless you like toast and barbecue an awful lot, you’ll change your mind.” He twisted in his seat to face her more squarely where she stood, caught between a pot of boiling water and a sizzling pan. _A fitting metaphor. Christ_ , he thought. _His brain was turning into Daniel_. He pushed through, forcing light into his tone in the hope it would ease the pain in her eyes. “I’ve been known to burn boiling water, so anything beyond neanderthal-level open flame, and you’re in charge.”

With a small shake of her head, she turned to tend to the bacon. His gaze drifted from the collar of his shirt to the gentle curve of her thighs and he felt his need to hold her growing. Then the bubbles rising in the glass pot, slowly turning the strands of spaghetti over with their heat, caught his attention. _She was in charge_.

“Carter!” He was up, his hands on her shoulders twisting her to face him. “You were in charge!”

“Wh-what?”

He pulled the spatula out of her grasp, reached around her to turn off the heat under the bacon, and grabbed both her hands in his. “Today. You didn’t disobey my order. You gave your own.”

“Sir…” Something shuttered behind her eyes. He never wanted to hear her calling him anything other than Jack again. But they still had to find their way there. Finally, this could be a way.

“No, listen,” he persisted.

His thumbs rubbed slow paths of comfort over her hands. “I told you to go to the gate. But I didn’t mean it literally. I meant for you to go for help, and come get me and the rest of the planet out of the shit storm we’d walked into.”

Wide eyes rose to meet him, clouded with consternation. “You told me to go to the gate.”

His eyes bored into hers. “You, or the team?”

“Well, the team…” A hint of understanding caught in her voice.

“Right.” His thumbs slid to the pulse point on the inside of her wrists. “The team, under your leadership. Because with me captured, you were in command.”

Her pulse quickened under his thumbs. It was all he needed to feel, to know she understood.

“But.” She looked down at their hands, and moved to interlace her fingers with his again. As close as hands could be. “But that would mean you gave the wrong order.”

_So much unsaid. Giving the wrong order made him a bad leader. Not following it made her a traitor._

Jack sighed. “Carter - Sam.” One hand loosened to catch her chin and raise her eyes to his. “Giving the wrong order makes me a leader past his prime. It’s a little embarrassing. At most.”

Her mouth pulled in anguish - a gesture that caught at his heart every time. They both knew the alternative. He would get sideways glances, whispers about being off his game. She would risk a court marshall; possibly a dishonourable discharge.

“I don’t want you to damage your reputation for me.”

Jack paused. What he wanted to say would tip them past the point of no return. He released a steadying breath. “But I want to.”

It took years for people to understand each other this deeply. Years. But they had dedicated years to knowing each other, even if they would both say it was only in the line of duty. By now, when she hurt, he felt it. His hand slid under his shirt, cupping the swell of her butt, tracing the line of her muscular thighs. She arched into him. Rising up on her toes, she stretched until the counter held her weight. Lithe fingers reached between them and popped the buttons on his his shirt one by one, letting it fall open around her. One leg, then the other, wrapped around his waist, pressing her body against him. His mouth dropped to the swell of her breasts, the hard points of her nipples. With a moan, her head fell back.

“Christ, Sam.” His left hand cradling her hips against him, he cupped her head in the palm of his right hand, holding her close to his heart.

“Jack,” she breathed into his neck.

Behind them, with a growing smell of burning, the pasta boiled over.

 

 

 


	6. The Best Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The general’s shoulders slumped. “And I assume your reports also deal with the minutes immediately following your return to earth?”
> 
> There, in the catch in his voice, was the reason for his rising frustration. The whole gate room had seen Jack’s flaming rage. Not the actions of someone grateful to be saved by the leader of their team.
> 
> “Now, I ask you not to test my patience with more lies.” Jack winced as he saw her blanching under the general’s words, and clenched his fists against his sides as their base commander spoke again, letting each word drop like a stone. “Is remaining on the same team as Colonel O’Neill going to be a problem, Major?”
> 
> \--oOo--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small ode to the big guy. He knew all along, didn't he?
> 
> \--oOo--

General Hammond dropped his hands to the briefing room table. His wedding ring hit the wood with a dull thunk, an echo of the frustration he was barely keeping at bay.

“So that’s all it was.” His words to Jack were lazer cut. “You gave Major Carter command of SG-1 with a pre-arranged signal.”

The colonel raised a nonchalant shoulder. “That’s all it was.”

“And the whole team immediately understood this unspoken pre-arranged change in command.” The general’s eyebrows twitched with incredulity.

Sam sank a fraction deeper into her chair. She knew why Jack was doing this. He was doing it for her. But she viscerally _hated_ every second of the deception.

“It’s not the first time Sam’s taken charge for part of a mission,” Daniel broke in, innocent, earnest. Complicit. Sam’s teeth clamped down on the inside of her lower lip.

“I am aware of that, Doctor Jackson." The eyebrow twitch grew more visible as the general’s words froze the air. "But I don’t remember the team immediately doing the exact opposite of the colonel’s final command on previous missions. Do you?” 

“General, with respect, this time was different.” Daniel was quieter now, more serious than she had seen him in months. “I didn’t know much about Sekhmet before yesterday, but I was convinced he wasn’t bluffing when he spoke about killing Jack.” His eyes flicked across the table at their C.O., then back to look the general full in the face. “What I read last night bears it out. He’s renowned for his short fuse. Even his first primes hardly ever last more than a month before he kills them for some petty slight.”

Sam closed her eyes. Her decision to sacrifice herself for him had nothing to do with Sekhmet. She had acted only out of love. She didn’t know if Daniel realised that. And she could never find out.

“Daniel Jackson is correct, General Hammond.” Her eyes shot open again at Teal’c’s measured baritone. “We were primed to act on Major Carter’s diversion, because it was clear from Sekhmet’s carriage and his reputation that Colonel O’Neill was at great risk.”

The general’s shoulders slumped. “And I assume your reports also deal with the minutes immediately following your return to earth?”

There, in the catch in his voice, was the reason for his rising frustration. The whole gate room had seen Jack’s flaming rage. Not the actions of someone grateful to be saved by the leader of their team.

_Fuck._

“That was my mistake, general.” Jack’s words rumbled from deep in his chest, pulling his mouth into a defeated grimace. “I thought she took unnecessary risks, calling out the fact that she was a woman.” He turned to face her, brown eyes looking deep into hers as he continued, giving an unspoken order. “The major pointed out to me that I had no right to question her style of command once I’d placed her in charge. She was right. It was a good talk.”

Sam’s hands trembled on her lap, but she obeyed him. Her face a mask of control, her eyes resolutely on his, she gave a small nod as if acknowledging his version of events.

“In - in fact,” Daniel was animated again, “it was an inspired move, risky as it was. Sekhmet uh apparently favours women. Has a soft spot for them, so to speak. Sam was the member of the team most likely to be spared. But she probably did need to point out that she was female, given that her combat gear makes her look, um, quite similar to the rest of us.” He glanced across at her. “No offense, Sam,” he softened.

Another voice drifted into her memory. Jack’s voice, the night before. _No offense, Carter, but don’t you dare talk about my knee while you look like that._ The warm smile that lit her face when she looked up at Daniel was only partly aimed at him.

“I knew it was a risk,” she spoke for the first time during the briefing, because for the first time she could tell the truth, “but it was a risk I was willing to take. For all the horrendous things he’d done to their children, Sekhmet hadn’t allowed a single woman to be hurt.”

“All right. That’s enough.” The general rubbed tired hands across his head. “Dismissed.” He paused as four chairs rolled away from the table. “Major Carter, Colonel O’Neill, my office.”

—oOo—

The general closed his office door behind him with angry force.

“That was some good acting in there.” His words were dangerously sharp. All pretense had dropped away. “Good enough even to fool people who read the mission reports. Congratulations.” Shards of broken glass shot out of his mouth.

He paced around, placing himself deliberately between them. Blocking Jack behind his back. Facing her.

“Now, I ask you not to test my patience with more lies.” Jack winced as he saw her blanching under the general’s words, and clenched his fists against his sides as their base commander spoke again, letting each word drop like a stone. “Is remaining on the same team as Colonel O’Neill going to be a problem, Major?”

  
He knew. He knew everything. Sam’s heart crumpled as she let her chin fall to her chest.

“No, General, it won’t,” Jack spoke behind him. “Because we won’t be on the same team any more. I’m resigning.”

Her gasp was masked by the general spinning on his heels. Jack held out a sheet of paper that had been neatly folded into three and subsequently rolled and unrolled until it curled of its own volition in his hand. The paper he’d been playing with throughout the briefing. Sam hugged her arms around her waist, holding herself together the only way she could.

“You brought me out of retirement to lead SG-1 because you didn’t believe anyone on active duty was up to it.” Jack walked backwards as he spoke, drawing the general along with him, giving her space. “Well, yesterday, Major Carter proved, not for the first time, that she’s ready. She spotted an opportunity to get us all out alive and save the population of the planet.” He paused. “I missed the opening she spotted, General. And she executed it in the most ballsey way possible.”

Jack risked a glance in her direction. Her eyes were on his, glistening with tears, wide with shock. Despite himself, his jaw softened as he looked away and hit the curling resignation letter against his twinging right knee.

“Besides, it’s not just my brain that’s slowing down. One sharp stone yesterday put my knee out of commission for at least a week, according to Fraser.”

He paced around again, and when he turned to face the general one last time, a gentle smile lit his face. “It’s been fun, General. But it’s time for me to get back to my fishing. I’ve done what you asked. I’ve given you a damn fine leader for SG-1.”

Sam watched in disbelief as an echoing smile warmed the general’s face and unknotted his shoulders. “You know the choice of your successor isn’t only up to me, Colonel.”

“Yah, but they’d have to be even slower than I was yesterday not to pick her.” The smile on Jack’s face was a full-blown grin by now, twinkling into his eyes.

“Sir, you can’t.” Sam stammered, unsure of who she was even addressing. Her head was spinning like the first time she stepped through the stargate.

“Actually, Major, Colonel O’Neill has the right to resign when he wants to.” The general who turned to her was the family friend she had known as a child, not the angry, worried commander of three minutes earlier. “And he’s right. He’s left us with a strong candidate to succeed him. Although the decision is not all mine.” His smile held kindness. “Thank you, Major. Dismissed.”

—oOo—

“Jack,” Sam was already clattering clumsy relief down the stairs when the general’s voice caught him in his office doorway. Jack stopped, and turned.

“I expect an invitation to your wedding.” The general was leaning up against his desk, a knowing smile playing in his eyes.

Jack guffawed, and shook his head. “George,” he said slowly, savouring each word as it pointed him towards his future, “if she ever says yes, you’ll be my best man.”

“Hey, Carter, wait up!” Not only Sam, but everyone in the control room stopped and turned at the happiness bubbling from his call. Taking the stairs as quickly as his knee would allow, he closed the space between them in the silent, watching, control room.

They were still on duty. And she still had a long career ahead of her, so he couldn’t crush her to his chest and kiss her like he so desperately wanted to.

But he didn’t give a hairy rat’s ass if everyone saw the love pouring out of his smile as he slung a casual arm over her shoulder.

“Once you’re done moving your stuff into my office,” he asked, “will ya _finally_ let me take you fishing?”

  
_The End_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ginormous THANK YOU to everyone who read, left Kudos or comments, or inspired me with fics or art or vids or GIFs of your own.
> 
> No matter how hard real life gets, you always remind me how much kindness exists.
> 
> Rock on, S/J unicorns!
> 
> xo

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Regulation 45 Section 4b](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248361) by [Caladenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia)




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